


Uninvited

by DktrAgonizer



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 03:23:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7828570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DktrAgonizer/pseuds/DktrAgonizer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a stint in Arkham, Edward receives a visit from his dad - the first since he left home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uninvited

**Author's Note:**

> I know a bunch of people have written this sort of thing before, but hey, I wanted to. This was originally done for RP anyway, just tweaked very slightly to work as a standalone. (And I have no idea if Eddie's parents canonically have names or not, so I get to choose my own. Yay.)

Edward doesn't recognize the man sitting on the other side of the window. He's not one of Edward's - he remembers all of his henchmen’s faces - but Edward looks him over for the telltale flash of green anyway. There's nothing, and his mind works through the possibilities in the seconds it takes for him to sit down and pick up the phone. One of Penguin’s? Perhaps. One of Selina's? That one's less likely (does she even _have_ people?), but he can't write the possibility off.  
  
The stranger speaks before Edward can. “Hey, Eddie.” The voice is all-too-familiar, and Edward feels his mind grind to a halt. No. This isn’t happening, it _can’t_ be happening. “Long time no see.”  
  
He feels frozen in place, nerves buzzing, mind telling him to go, _go_ , but he can't move. The man across from him no longer looks like a stranger, but Edward can't be sure if he's seeing things. He's put on some weight, he’s wearing glasses, and the hair that used to sit on top of his head seems to have migrated down to his face. But underneath it all is something familiar: it’s the face he still sees in his nightmares sometimes, looming over him, berating him, calling him -  
  
The words want to stick in his throat, and he has to clear it to get them out. “Hello, Father.” They feel foul in his mouth. Edward glances off to the side to the guard standing nearby, hands folded in front of her and a neutral look on her face. He looks back, and the intensity with which his father holds his gaze is enough to make him slump in on himself.  
  
“Oh, good.” His father (Heath, just call him by his _name_ ) lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I was beginning to think they'd made you dumb. Well, dumb _er_.”  
  
Why is he here? He shouldn't be here, he shouldn't be anywhere _near_ here. Edward pinches himself with his free hand, right on his thigh. But he's here, this is real, and so he asks the question screaming in his brain: “Why are you here?” It's meant to be demanding, annoyed, but his shaking voice betrays him.  
  
Heath shifts forward in his seat. Edward scoots back, just a little. “I'm in Gotham for the week on business. Imagine my surprise when I got here only to see that no-good _son_ -” the word gets spit out like an insult “-of mine had just gotten himself arrested. Again. And sent to Arkham. _Again_. You practically live here, don't you?”  
  
His hand tightens on the phone and his fingers dig into his thigh. “You say it like I'm some sort of base criminal. I didn't even _do_  anything this t-”  
  
Heath cuts in sharply, punctuating his words with a jab from his free hand against the glass partition. Edward flinches back, panic fluttering in his throat and in his chest. “This is exactly what I knew would happen. You cheated your way through high school, and then you moved here for, what, the bigger prospects? On the money _you_  stole from us.”  
  
God, that was a lifetime ago. He wants to interject, but Heath doesn't give him the chance. “You've always been nothing but a drain. On us, and now on _this_ city. Dressing in ridiculous costumes, wearing _makeup_ , making a fool of yourself with everything you do. I almost thought maybe you'd learn after the first time or two you made headlines by getting caught. And yet here you are, a 30-something year old man-”  
  
“33,” Edward says, automatically, tonelessly. His hands are shaking.  
  
“-and you still haven’t learned anything.” Heath’s voice has dropped to an angry whisper. Edward wants to put the phone down, to _slam_ it down and end this right here and now, but he still can’t make himself move. “You've done nothing except make this shithole of a city worse. You proud of yourself, champ?”  
  
He's not sure if he's breathing. It certainly doesn't feel like it. He's running through past conversations in his head: assurances from Diedre and Nina that he's not, nor will he ever be what his father said. Jon's words from just the other day echo in his mind, too: “ _You're not broken. You don't need fixing_.” He clings to it all like a lifeline.  
  
“And that stupid _name_. Nygma? Did you think you were being clever?” Heath rolls his eyes. Edward swallows. “But maybe I should be thankful you cut yourself off from my last name. I haven't had to deal with any embarrassing questions, thank god.”  
  
Another glance behind him. The guard is watching him as impassively as she's watching the others, and Edward feels an irrational surge of anger at her. Can't she tell what's going on? Can't she tell he needs to leave? She’s as useless as the rest of them. Heath is silent, waiting on some sort of reply. Edward takes a deep breath, steadying himself with the words from his partners, anchoring himself with the anger. “Are you done? Is that all you came here for? To mock me?”  
  
Heath lets out a weary sigh, and the anger boils up, a burning hatred for the man and the nerve he had for coming here. “At least _I_ never expected anything better of you, but your mother-”  
  
It's the last straw. The anger explodes past the panic, pushing Edward to his feet. “Get _OUT_!” He slams the phone so hard into the glass that it cracks, and he gets to witness the oh-so-satisfying way Heath reels back in surprise. “I'll kill you! Do you hear me?”  
  
There are hands on him now, trying to drag him away. The broken phone falls from his hand. “I'll _KILL_ you! This is all your _fault_!” He punctuates the last word by slamming his fist into the glass. He can feel the knuckles split, but he doesn't care; the pain is more comforting than anything else. Heath stands up and backs away, a look of utter contempt on his face as Edward continues to shout, words melting into incomprehensible obscenities and threats.  
  
It takes two pairs of hands and the threat of solitary to pull him away.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Consider leaving a comment letting me know your thoughts; I'd love to read them!


End file.
